


I Think I Love You (but its better if i ignore it)

by noyas_last_brain_cell



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Binary Hange Zoë, One Shot, POV Third Person, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noyas_last_brain_cell/pseuds/noyas_last_brain_cell
Summary: Jean and Marco had been best friends since they were kids. It had always been like that, and nothing changed until all of a sudden, Jean refused to talk to Marco for no apparent reason.Problem is, Marco is totally in love with Jean, and without him, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Until he comes into work at 11pm unexpectedly.Bookstore AU
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Marco Bott & Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 5
Kudos: 34





	I Think I Love You (but its better if i ignore it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue1iv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue1iv/gifts).



> I have,,, never done a jeanmarco oneshot before. Pls comment and kudos because I need comfort from the pain of jeanmarco being my OTP

Marco knew how to deal with his friends varying moods. For example, when Eren would go on a raging tangent because the little old lady who arrived at the library every morning had decided to borrow his favourite classical, The Picture of Dorian Gray, he was always the one to lend him his own copy (while Armin, of course, ran circles around him, giving him tea and cookies just to make sure he didn’t steal it back from her). Or, when Berthold would be on the verge of tears while a petty regular complained that ‘Jane Eyre’ had too many of the corners of pages folded inwards and would make an official complaint to his manager, Marco was always the one to console him before it turned into a full-blown panic attack.

He was there for his friends when no one else could be. It was just how things were. He loved them, despite their weird little mannerisms and quirks. He loved the cozy library they worked in, old and slightly in ruins from the exterior, but that was what made it so magically poetic. Always warm and dimly lit by dark oak chandeliers hanging from the high-roofed ceiling, with rows of bookcases running chronologically from A to Z, neatly in order. And the essential coffee corner sat comfortably in the left, run by Armin and Annie (they were the only two who had enough patience to deal with the teenagers who sat in their area, chatting loudly and slurping their fancy coffees). He loved the cliques they had made with each other, all their inside jokes and watching Sasha and Connie perform the Nutcracker Ballet in the breakroom together.

And most importantly, he loved Jean.

It wasn’t a ‘shock-horror’ moment, or a something he ‘absolutely hated the idea of and Oh My God he was fucked.’ It was a gradual experience, to say the least. Him and Jean had been friends for years, since they were just little kids. Marco would go as far as saying they were best friends, but Jean would just roll his eyes dramatically and never admit it. He was okay with that though because he knew Jean felt the same about their friendship.

Jean kind of… took him under his wing. He hadn’t necessarily sought him out, but Jean took an interest in him back at good old primary school. And ever since a few art projects together and a History Presentation that Marco did by himself (despite Jean being his so-called ‘partner’), they’d been inseparable. Jean was more extravagant, to say the least, and Marco less so, but that didn’t matter to him either. It was what he liked about Jean, what had kept them together for so long. Jean liked how Marco wasn’t always some godly angel from heaven who was nice and meek and sweet, a trait that many people had believed he was, until they’d seen Marco snap after being called ‘overly-nice’ too many times, and Marco liked how Jean was comfortable enough to put down his façade, and open up to him once in a while. They knew each other inside out. They knew each other’s insecurities, secrets; only Marco knew best how to deal with Jean’s fits of anger after him and Eren fought yet again.

So, when Marco realised he’d slowly fallen in love with his best friend, it didn’t bother him at all. It made perfect sense. Jean was everything to him. Attractive, sensitive, attractive, talkative. Without him, life felt a little out of place. When the two of them had graduated high school, they could finally spend as much time as they wanted together, having taken a gap year and employing at the Shiganshina District Library. Marco enjoyed working with him, being with him. And he thought Jean did too.

Apparently not.

Marco stood behind the cash register, absentmindedly scanning a pile of children’s picture books from outstanding to free-to-borrow, watching Armin leave his station for the fifth time today and sit next to Eren in the Young Adults section, placing his head on the edge of his shoulder. When Eren looked up, he smiled a little, and went back to organising the L.J Smith Vampire Diaries in consecutive order while Armin chatted quietly so as to make sure their manager Erwin, or worse, Levi, wouldn’t find them slacking off. It was just about closing time, and the last customer had left with a pile of Danielle Steel books on their head to hide under from the rain.

Armin and Eren had been together for God knows how long. It was just common knowledge, with the way Armin fawned over him, and Eren would be annoyed and get flustered, but only because he didn’t want to show just how much he liked him. To be fair, it was the same with Bert and Reiner, and Ymir and Christa. They were together, and everybody knew it too. Personally, Marco thought it was very sweet that they had so many relationships in their friendship group. Naturally, he was happy to see his friends happy, although it was slightly disturbing when Ymir stood on the breakroom tabletop after-hours and proclaimed that if anyone dared get close to Christa, she would kill them before they’d even have the opportunity to apologise (a daily occurrence, really. Everyone just had to get used to it). No one knew how long Reiner and Bert had been dating. No one knew much about either of them, really. Mikasa and Annie, the two who were the least to actually care about such a trivial subject, had bet £50 on how long they had been together, 10 months or 10 years. In the end, Reiner had evaded the question completely, leading everyone to believe that Reiner and Bert had been dating before they were born, and that was that. Jean tried to join in with the bet, far after the entire debate had been decided. He claimed he believed they started dating in Uni, just to reignite the debate again, but Marco just assumed that he just wanted to get close to Mikasa. It didn’t, well, bother him all that much. He just thought that Jean’s infatuation with her was well overdue. Very, very long overdue.

Suddenly, the entrance door creaked open, and a figure in a large trench coat stormed in from the rain, slamming the door behind him. Eren peeked over the side of the bookcase, scowled, and stood up, pulling Armin with him to stand. Looked like they were getting ready to leave.

Ah. Of course. It was Jean.

The man pulled off his hood, running his hand through his undercut irritatedly while he thundered into Erwin’s office, muttering darkly under his breath.

Jean was never in this late. He wasn’t meant to close – he claimed he needed an early night everyday to help with keeping his skin clear and rid of eyebags – he preferred day shifts far more. So why, at 11pm, was Jean Kirstein walking in like a right past him without saying a word to him?

He guessed it only made sense that Jean was still ignoring him. Well, not that even that made sense either. Marco didn’t exactly know when it started. All he knew was that it started two weeks ago. He hadn’t done anything, at least, he thought he hadn’t, but it all started when him and Jean were in Marco’s apartment, sitting on his bed playing multiplayer Mario Kart on his Nintendo Switch. It was far too early, at least 1am in the morning, and the both of them were half asleep with half eaten pepperoni pizza strewn on the floor, but they still insisted on playing. They were both on 53 wins, and the next person to win that run would have to treat the other to dinner (Marco came up with this idea, of course. It sounded a lot like a dinner date, but Jean didn’t seem to notice the flirtatious connotations and agreed with less than a noncommittal grunt. It was enough for Marco either way).

In the end, Marco won. Jean didn’t have the patience to beat Princess Peach on her ATV.

“Jean, I thought I told you I’d win,” he said sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the aggressiveness of a toddler who’d been staring at their iPad screen all day with Cheeto dust over their fingers, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

Jean scowled, not having enough energy to glare at Marco as intensely as he usually would. “And? You didn’t have to fucking rub it in like that.”

“But its more fun if I do.” Marco smiled lopsidedly and rolled over. He knew Jean didn’t mean it; he knew just how defensive he got. It was just in his nature, and Marco had gotten used to dealing with it. Not that he’d ever want him to stop, of course. He couldn’t just lie and say it wasn’t hot, but he wouldn’t admit that to anyone but himself. “You ready to sleep?”

Jean clicked onto his phone, checking the time and groaned a little. “I don’t want to have to drive home Marco. It’s late and I feel like my head’s been smashed in and I didn’t even drink anything, God.”

“You don’t have to? Just stay here the night. I don’t mind.”

Now, it was important to know that this was a completely normal request. They’d had sleepovers all the time. They stayed over at each other’s places since they were kids, and it was never a big deal to them at all. But by the way Jean snapped his head to look straight at him, hazel eyes widened with an expression he couldn’t quite place, and pursed his lips together almost immediately, he’d probably taken offence. “Erm…”

Marco laughed nervously, trying to ignore the tight feeling in his chest. “I mean, I could always drive you home if you wanted-”

“What? No, its fine. I don’t care, whatever.” Jean stood up from the bed, brushing non-existent crumbs from his jeans, and walking towards the door. “I can sleep on the couch?”

He turned his head to look back at him, smiling sadly as Jean gripped the doorknob with red knuckles. “Yeah.”

And that was it. Well, except the fact that by the end of the night, Marco had gravitated from his far too empty bed to the couch next to Jean, his head placed warily on his shoulder. And Jean didn’t move, or shrug him off. Instead, they sat there, in the complete dark, sides pressed against each other underneath a blanket Marco had been given by his nan when he was a kid. The two of them used to sit like this, years ago, in the same position. Except now, they were bigger, and older, and this time Marco’s head sat perfectly in the crook of Jean’s neck, and they didn’t slip off the edge of the couch like they used to. And they didn’t say a word. Just a mutual understanding that the two of them should sit there and enjoy each other’s presence while they could. Nothing had incited this. Jean hadn’t called Marco and asked him to be there. He just knew. And it was the closest they’d physically gotten in years, after Jean’s high school popular jock phase.

The day after, Marco woke up with an empty space next to him on the couch, and an unlocked door. Jean avoided him since then, and he guessed the dinner date was off.

In all the time Marco and Jean had been friends, Jean had never, ever purposefully ignored Marco. Sure, maybe whenever he got mad, he would attempt to snub him off, but it only ever lasted a good few minutes. Besides, Jean had too much to say, and staying quiet wasn’t how he did things. So Marco knew shit was serious. But it wasn’t like he could help him, because he hadn’t told him what was wrong – he’d left one night and never explained why, and decided to leave it that way. It wasn’t fair to Marco, he was sure Jean knew that, because at work, Jean flushed guiltily every time they passed each other. And frankly, it hurt. He hated how Jean left his messages on delivered. He hated that they couldn’t talk to one another. And he hated how it made him feel. Rendered completely helpless because Jean wouldn’t let him get close again. It felt like half of him had been taken from him. He didn’t realise how much he relied on Jean, and two weeks without him felt like an ugly silence eating at his brain. And to be perfectly honest, Marco was mad at him. For leaving him without saying one fucking word and expecting Marco to be okay with that. But he wasn’t going to approach Jean and call him out. He deserved an apology, and he wasn’t going to beg for him. He had more grace than that.  
So seeing him again, late at night at work, was a small shock to him.

Marco dropped the last book into the basket for Sasha to organize tomorrow, exchanging a confused, and slightly worried look with Armin. Just in front of him, a few shouts erupted from the office, and seconds later, Hange came tumbling out in a peal of squeals, tripping over their own feet as the door swing open. “Ow! What the hell?”

Eren coughed, edging towards the exit with Armin. He clearly hadn’t gotten over the time Hange diagnosed him with anger issues on a whim and interrogated him for his entire shift. In all fairness, they were a psychiatrist, but the intensity in which they interviewed Eren constantly was slightly terrifying. “Er… Hange? Are you okay?”

“Oh, certainly! I’ll be alright, don’t worry. Anyway…” They turned to look at Marco, their signature ponytail whipping the side of their face.

He looked behind him, then back again. “Me?”

Hange laughed, waving their hand as if dismissing him. “Yes you! Come on in, Levi and Erwin want you.”

An aggressive routine of knocks came from behind the door.

“Now, preferably?”

Marco gulped. He weighed the choice of running away, or pretending to die on the spot right there and then. Getting called to Erwin’s office meant you were dead already. Not by Erwin, of course; he tried to keep the reprimanding to a minimum, at least, but it was Levi who really terrified him. He did have respect for him, of course, but there was something about him that he couldn’t shake. It was how he could frighten anyone by staring at them with his talent of the lack of needing to blink, arms crossed and face completely deadpan – it could only mean Marco was in trouble. He scanned through everything he had done today, checking through very possible mistake he could have made-

“BODT! GET YOUR ASS IN HE-”

Too late now.  
He knit his eyebrows together and followed Hange into the office. The window was wide open, letting the light from the streetlamps stream through it, and the cold air settling in the study. Sitting at his desk of mahogany, and strewn with documents and crumpled papers, was Erwin, with Levi sitting on the edge of his desk. The smell of stale and too-bitter coffee wafted through the study, and Marco wrinkled his nose. Not just because of the smell, but because of the fact that Jean was standing in the corner of the room, with his head down, still refusing to look at Marco. But that was okay. He didn’t mind. Two could play at that game.

Levi jumped off the corner of the table, grimacing as Hange managed to stub their toe on a book left dismally by the entrance.

“I’ll cut to the chase, because its late, and frankly none of us want to be here.” Levi spoke quickly and sharply, yet a tone of indifference laced his voice like always. “Eren and Armin aren’t closing today, which meant we had to call in Jean to assist you since he took his vacation day yesterday.”

Erwin rubbed a hand on his temple. “We would, of course, try to help, but we can’t stay here for any longer. A situation at the Maria branch has come up, and the three of us have to be there to meet with Moblit immediately.”

From the corner of his eye, Marco caught Levi sigh exasperatedly, muttering a quiet ‘it’s too late for this’, before nodding to Jean. “But he doesn’t understand why he has to be here.”

Marco tried not to look at him, or even acknowledge his presence. It was hard enough knowing that the two of them would be alone in an empty library, clearing up the mess from the evening in an awkward silence. He should have just run away.

Jean flushed, balling his hands up into a fist as a small gesture of indignance. Going against Levi’s word was one thing, but blatantly arguing with him? Jean was pushing it a little. “Why is Eren being allowed to skip his own shift? How is it fair that because he’s too lazy to do it, I have to come back to work at 11pm on a Friday night? What if I had plans?”

_But you didn’t, did you? Every Friday you decide to rewatch a painfully straight romance movie to make yourself feel worse about the fact that you’re single, and have an excuse to sit in a pity hole for an evening._

“Jean, Armin and Eren have had this night booked as a skip for weeks now. I assumed I’d be able to help Marco with closing, but we didn’t expect to have a call with a half-crying Moblit because the pipes broke and flooded the entire children’s section and now, we have to fill out a shit-ton of a paperwork-”

“Hange, that’s enough.” Erwin raised his eyebrows, amused.

For a split second, the room went silent, all eyes on Jean, except Marco’s.

“Why was I called in here?” His words came out a little snappier than he’d hoped, and by Jean’s double take, he’d noticed too.

Hange, not taking note of his tone, picked up their bag and started to fill it with folders. “We wanted you to know that instead of Eren and Armin, Jean would be helping you out tonight. It’d be the same as usual, except Jean hasn’t closed before, so make sure he does the Biography section, and you sort out the-”

“I never said I was going to help out!” Jean looked significantly less sure of himself than he had a couple of minutes ago.

Levi followed suit of Hange, as did Erwin. “We’re leaving now. By 12am, you should be out of here, and don’t forget to switch on the alarms. And if tomorrow I see even a speck of dust, I’ll call you up at 5am to clean it up.”

“But-”

“No buts, Kirstein.”

And with that, their bosses walked right past them and towards the exit, Hange stubbing their toe on the heavy double doors more than a couple of times before successfully leaving with more than a few bruises.

Which meant that Jean and Marco were alone.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, in Erwin’s office, completely dazed, rocking on the heels of their shoes, refusing to be the first person to speak. It seemed a little petty, in Marco’s eyes, but then again, it was also petty that he had decided to stoop to his level and refuse to be the bigger person. He’d always cleaned up after Jean’s mistakes, or forgiven him when he messed up, or had to apologise on his behalf. But this time, it wasn’t his place to sort the issue out, nor was he going to continue begging for Jean to text him back, or worry over his prolonged silence. Whatever it was, Jean had to come to him first.

Well, discounting this particular moment, because Marco would have to speak up or neither of them would leave the office. “Right. Don’t worry about the YA section, or the Children’s or non-fictional – I think Eren did those with Armin before they left. We just need to make sure nothings out of order or Levi will give us hell to pay.”

Silence.

“Sure.”

Jean took the first step back into the main library, heading straight for the biography corner without so much as a backwards glance, not bothering to ask Marco what he needed to do there. But it was fine. Marco could deal with that. If Jean didn’t want to listen, then all he had to do was get on with his job, and ignore the asshole he was working with.

But the only word he could use to describe the time that followed was nothing to do with productivity – it was timeless. Not in a pure way, the fluttery feeling after having spent quality time with the man you were in love with. No, it was endless because Marco had to clear up after Jean since he had no fucking clue what he was doing. Marco doubted he was even making an effort, but either way, it pissed him off. What was he trying to achieve from this?

Jean had one job. One job.

Marco glanced at the clock, anxiously reminding himself that they only had 15 minutes before they had to be out, and the toilets hadn’t been cleaned yet. He also hadn’t seen Jean since five minutes ago when he went into the YA, completely disregarding the fact that Eren had already been there – was he hiding now? A twisted game of hide and seek? Marco sighed for the fifth time today. What had he done to deserve this? No, really. What had he done to make Jean pull away from him again? Reluctantly (or not so much, since he now had an excuse to look for him), Marco traced his steps to where he last saw him, but he was nowhere to be seen in the main area, and it freaked him out even more that it was so utterly quiet. Usually, you’d be able to hear Jean before you saw him, but Marco didn’t hear or see him which meant Jean had either left the building altogether, or died. Considering the circumstances, he wouldn’t be too surprised if it were the latter.

There was one place Marco hadn’t looked in, though. If nowhere else, he’d be in his usual spot in the supply cupboard, where the two of them would play uno instead of in the breakroom, because they didn’t want to have to endure another one of Ymir’s rants. Everyone assumed they’d made out at least once in there, or something along those lines, and Marco couldn’t lie and pretend he hadn’t thought of it more than was necessarily healthy, but nothing serious ever went on there. It was like their own little space, just for themselves (until new stock came in and Reiner had to transport the new books into the shelves). No one took up that space unless they needed to. The thought that Jean would be in there now, sitting on the crater named Shipment – America 194601 in the far corner, was a little more than comforting. But they couldn’t sit and chat idly like they used to anymore. They hadn’t done anything of the sort since two weeks ago.

Marco approached the cupboard quietly, moving the coat hanger to the side, before pulling on the rusted silver knob. “Jean?”

The room was dark, cold, and far smaller than Marco remembered. Had he grown, or was he just feeling increasingly uncomfortable the more the silence spread on? But eventually, just as he was about to leave, a small voice whispered into the air.

“Marco…?”

It didn’t sound like Jean’s voice at all. It was small, and frail, and nothing like how it sounded when he had gone against Levi in the office. The worst part was that Marco recognized that voice. He hadn’t heard this side of him for years. Yet somehow, it was unmistakeably him.

“Jean.”

Marco fumbled for the light switch, and a warm, dim light faded the darkness away. And the huddled figure leaning against a shelving unit behind him on a crater named Shipment – America 194601 looking anywhere but at Marco, was Jean. His eyes were glazed over, like he was daydreaming, stuck between the choice of facing reality or retreating back to pretending it wasn’t real, and he thoughtlessly picked at the skin on his thumb. Marco knew for a fact Jean only did that when he was nervous, using it to focus on anything else but the situation at hand. He drew nearer to him, sitting on his own crater opposite him, slowly, carefully, exactly how he had done for his whole life because he knew how to deal with his best friend’s moods. He always had.

“Hey, Jean. Look at me.”

All he received from him was a small shake of the head, and a glare that seemed to look right past him.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Nothing.

Marco huffed, moving his face in line with Jean’s, so he had no choice but to look at him in the eye. And this time, he didn’t move his head, or let his eyes wander to the oh-so-interesting rug on the floor that he’d apparently taken a sudden interest in. No, Jean looked at him, eye to eye, his jaw clenched.

But Marco didn’t recognize what he saw. The look in his eye wasn’t any insecurity that Jean held, the insecurities that only Marco knew. It was more than that. It was a look of pure fear. Of utter dread. Worry. Hurt. A look that stopped him in his tracks. One that he couldn’t wrap his head around. Something that frightened him, but he couldn’t look away. He was stuck, staring at the hurt Jean’s face showed, all in those hazel eyes which he’d memorized for so long. Except now, he didn’t understand why they’d changed so much.

“Are- are you okay?” a whisper left his tongue, settling in the air for far too long. Neither of them could speak. Just sitting in a silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable, but it was there either way.

Eventually, Jean blinked, leaning back even further, as far away from Marco as he could. “You tell me.”

“Jean, I-”

“I don’t know, okay?”

Marco’s heart lurched. Jean shouted all the time, but this was different. It wasn’t filled with anger, or annoyance. It felt fragile, cracked behind his mask of indifference, hoarse and painful and sad and Marco hated how it came from him because he’d never seen Jean look so hurt, and he didn’t know what to do to help.

Jean crumpled. “I don’t… know. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Fair. You don’t have to. And I’m not going to force you to either. But don’t you think I deserve to at least know if you’re okay?”

Jean flicked his eyes up, challenging Marco’s gaze.

“The last thing you said to me was two weeks ago. You up and left, and then you didn’t say anything again.” He told himself he was going to let Jean deal with it. He said he was going to wait for Jean to apologize, because he wasn’t going to be a pushover and beg for him to tell him why he’d shoved him out of his life. But he was frustrated. And annoyed, and angry and worried and scared for him because the person he loved was letting him go. “Jean, if you ever want space from me, that’s okay, but if I don’t get warning, how the hell am I supposed to react? Am I supposed to just let you sulk and completely avoid me when I don’t know what I did wrong?”

“I don’t get why you’re getting so upset! I don’t have to tell you every fucking thing that’s going on in my life!”

“And I don’t get why you’re being so goddam difficult! Why are you cutting me of?” Marco stood up violently, and one of the craters fell on its side, dust floating in the air from its surface. Jean sniffled. “Why are you pretending you don’t know me? Can’t we talk about anything together?”

His voice softened, staring pleadingly at Jean. “Aren’t we best friends?”

Jean stopped picking at his thumb, taking a sharp breath in.

“No.”

Marco stilled, feeling a rush of cold sweep over his skin, prickling at his arms. “What?”

“We can’t be. Friends, I mean.”

“W-Why not?”

“It’s just better that way.”

The fluttering feeling in Marco’s stomach plummeted. Maybe somewhere in him, he knew this day would come. The day Jean got bored of him. The day everything he valued in his life came to an end.

The day Jean would leave him.

No more spontaneous midnight calls, or sleepovers which lasted for days. No more random uno games when they were bored, or dinner ‘dates’ at a bar because neither of them could be bothered to cook. No more smiles, or those rare hugs, or pointless conversations with their heads together, staring at the ceiling. His head swirled slightly, and he couldn’t bear to look at Jean. The light was too bright, and everything was too big for the small room. It was stuffy, and although it was cold, Marco felt hot underneath his jumper, and he knew he was hot and sweaty but he couldn’t help the tears which pricked at his eyes, trying to fight the overwhelming sense to fall on his knees and cry. But in place of where the sadness should have been, all he felt was emptiness. He couldn’t tell whether he was meant to feel angry, or worried, or annoyed. All of his emotion had been sucked up into the black hole that enveloped him.

“Fine.” He forced out one hollow, cracked word in a voice he didn’t believe was him.

“Marco-”

“No, really, its fine. If you want to put this all behind us, that’s up to you.”

“Can you just-”

“If you would rather end this than tell me so we can fix it, then that’s okay.”

Jean looked at him pleadingly, cowering under his glare. He’d never looked so helpless, exposed. It made him uncomfortable. “Listen to me-”

“No! I’ve tried to listen, and nothing came out of it. I’ve been listening to you for my whole life, and the one time I want to talk, you shut me off. I’ve had enough of chasing after you-”

“Marco.”

“-and having to tidy up after you-”

“Marco.”

“So maybe you’re right. We shouldn’t be friends. Because you can’t even tell me the truth about what all of this is about-”

“For fucks sake, Marco, isn’t it obvious?”

“WHAT?”

“I think I’m in love with you!”

The endless muttering in Marco’s brain stopped, and for the first time tonight, his mind was silent.

Oh.

“You… love me?”

Jean’s eyes widened, and he sunk into himself, his hands quivering in his lap. “I- yeah. And I don’t know what to do.”

The reality of the situation hit the both of them at once. They were in a cupboard, at 12am, at work, and Jean had just confessed his love in a frenzy of panic and on the verge of tears. Marco held his breath, silent as the fluttering in his stomach came back again. He’d never been so terrified before. Never been so terrified, yet so hopeful.

“I was scared that you knew. That you didn’t want me. And I wasn’t sure about how I felt because I didn’t know what that would mean for the two of us. But I was selfish, and I didn’t stop loving you until I realized that nothing but the two of us getting hurt would come out of it.”

“So you left.”

“So I left.”

Marco froze. He didn’t know what to say, what to think. Because the muttering in his mind flooded over him again, with his emotions slapping him in the face, heavy and more than he could handle. The more he stayed stood there, lost for words, the more he knew Jean was getting uncomfortable. But he couldn’t help being stuck there, leaning against the wall for support, staring at him in bewilderment.

Jean stood up hurriedly, a worrying shade of red, stumbling over a sat of books in front of his feet. “But its fine, its fine, you don’t need to feel the same way. I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you into anything because I can’t fucking keep control of my own emotions.”

“I think I love you too.”

It was Jean’s turn to be stunned, looking straight into Marco’s eyes instead of past them. He swallows, his voice breaking. “Are- are you sure?”

Marco hadn’t expected to say it. He didn’t know what to say, but the only thing he was completely sure of, was that he wanted this. More than ever. He walks a little closer to Jean, fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper nervously. He gulped. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“… so you aren’t mad?”

Marco scoffed; a hint of a smile etched onto his face. “No, no, I’m still annoyed. Why the hell didn’t you just tell me instead of ignoring me? You- I was just worried, okay?”

Jean chewed on his bottom lip, shaking his head dismally. “Shit, I didn’t know how to face you after I realized how I… I don’t know. It was dumb. I guess I thought it would help if we weren’t around each other. I thought I could stop loving you so everything could go back to normal, but I just panicked. I- I couldn’t stop myself from…” He sighed, clutching a clump of his hair in desperation. “I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with you.”

The euphoria that had been building up in his stomach bubbled up to his head, and Marco smiled for the first time in two weeks, taking another hesitant step towards Jean, and sat on the crater, pulling him down next to him. This was it. More than he had wished for.

It was everything.

Jean turned to him, slowly opening his palm and placing Marco’s into it. Their hands clasped, fitting perfectly together, warm and soft on each other’s fingers.

“Marco, I love you. And… I’ve never said anything like that before. I, well, I’m not really any good at this, but I promise I’ll do my best.” Jean’s voice was still quiet, but it didn’t hold anymore fear. He was sure about this. “I don’t want to leave you.

And so was he.

“I love you too. And we can work this all out together. As long as you don’t ignore me.”

And before he knew it, Marco reached in, placing his lips on Jean’s tenderly. It wasn’t long, and it wasn’t very good, but it was perfect. Soft, and light, but it held everything he’d ever felt. Adoration, pain, affection, anguish. He didn’t want it to end. After a tumble of kisses on his cheek and an awkward giggle that sent Marco blushing profusely, Jean didn’t seem to want to stop either, despite knowing that it was way past 12am now. But Marco was okay with that.

Levi, however, wasn’t, and kept to his word, calling the two of them in at 5am to clean the toilets.

**Author's Note:**

> i know nothing about mario kart


End file.
